Shame

We all experience shame. When we see it in young people: that startling blush, indicating an area of thought or feeling that the wearer is suddenly confronted with, we remember how torturous it was to us, in those early days, to be so affected by the desire to conform, and the fear of not knowing how to conform. And now, when we're old, fat and ugly, all our dreams have been converted into the manure of destiny: how proud we are that nothing makes us blush any more. Try this: list all the things you care about. Then list all the things you used to care about, but now, well, they just ain't so important. See what I mean? Time to go for a good long walk. Then I can try to figure out why ScribeFire won't do the business for me . . .